


One More Kiss (for the Road)

by noussommeslessquelettes



Series: Squelette's Klance Smut Oneshots [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Laith, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, POV Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Sex, Top Lance (Voltron), Weddings, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 14:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noussommeslessquelettes/pseuds/noussommeslessquelettes
Summary: “Alright.” Lance says. And they pull away. He swipes the key card in the door and pulls it open, insisting Keith go in first. They get changed, they brush their teeth, and they go to bed.That’s what should’ve happened. Instead, what happened was this.~Keith and Lance’s fake relationship has run its course, served its purpose and would serve them no further. Keith suggests, to mark the occasion, that they share just one more kiss.Only, it doesn’t stop there.





	One More Kiss (for the Road)

**Author's Note:**

> Speedrunning slowburns and jumping RIGHT to the smut, honestly a sexy concept that I need to exploit more often.
> 
> Hi there fellow hubristic monkeys that took evolution a few steps too far, welcome to the party.
> 
> This is a story I wanted to write back in 2017, like a bigass slowburn. Suffice it to say, in John Mulaney’s voice, “and then I didn’t!” Writing’s hard, I don’t know why I keep doing it but Keet and Lonce won’t let me stop, they keep me captive as I try to finish my degree sorry @ all my profs u gotta blame the cartoon boyos it’s not my folt
> 
> Anyways the story is that Lance brings Keith as his plus-one to his brother’s out-of-town weekend wedding. On their way in Keith and Lance find out that their respective exes are A) attending the wedding too, and B) attending it TOGETHER! AS A COUPLE! *cue dramatic music* so Keith makes the split-second /obvious/ decision that they’re gonna pretend to be boyfriends and mushy gushy in love because FUCK their exes!!!! And Lance kinda doesn’t have a say in it bc Keith doesn’t ask him, but also he’s like “I get to kiss my crush??? And hold his hand????” And really us tender fucking gays can’t say no to that now can we
> 
> It has another part I wrote up as a drabble on my Tumblr which you can find [here on my blog](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/186733601966/oh-fun-things-you-said-mini-fic-11-or-20/), and [here on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893832/chapters/49666166/). It’s referenced in this oneshot but really if ur here for smut it’s not all that important. Still if u wanna read it I’d like that and super like it if u told me u liked it 2.
> 
> As I always say, read the tin it’s smut. Characters involved are above the age of majority (college students babey) and also don’t b silly wrap ur willy. Uhhh also practice self-care and question authority.
> 
> Anyway hope u enjoy

Keith lifted his head off his forearms pillowed on the table, ultimately giving into the temptation to check his watch. It read 1:42. Lance had started saying his final goodbyes almost half an hour ago.

He drew in for a sigh that transformed into a yawn. He usually wasn’t such a wet blanket this early in the night, but then again, he usually didn’t start his day at seven in the morning. And by this point in time, he normally would’ve been about four drinks or so in (Lance’s escapades the night before, and his ensuing hangover that morning, had turned him off the notion for tonight.) Keith was sleep-deprived, socially exhausted, and far too sober to continue on when the people were still so plentiful and the music was still so loud.

So Lance had told him they could turn in for the night. A half an hour ago. But at least he was almost finished, having just arrived before the last of his immediate family members, the newlyweds in question. Keith rest his chin on his arms, watching idly as Lance heartily embraced the bride—his new sister, Keith remembered. Lance hugged her fiercely, as if she were one of his own, like they’d been family this whole time. He couldn’t help but smile. Knowing Lance, that’s exactly how he’d seen it anyway.

He let her go, then turned to his brother, reaching out to do the same. Luis returned it with a hand that thumped on his back, the other coming up to muss Lance’s carefully gelled hair, which incited a whined protest that Keith could actually hear over the bass pounding a trap beat in his chest. He then pushed Lance to arms length, leaning close to tell him something. Lance laughed, shaking his head—then Luis said something else, and his smile dropped, expression gone pensive.

In that moment, he chose to look over at Keith. Keith, having the decency taught to him by his more socially-competent friends and brother, pushed up to sit taller, jerking his head in an acknowledging nod. Lance turned back to his brother with a wry smirk, speaking one last comment to him before slipping out of his grasp, taking a few steps towards Keith with one last wave to the happy couple. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he halted, tilting his head towards the elevators.

Keith didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair as he pushed to stand, weaving between the wall and the abandoned seats of his tablemates until his path to the exit was clear, making a beeline directly for it and trusting Lance to catch up. He did in a matter of seconds, a warm hand pressing into the small of Keith’s back as he called out one last, “Goodnight!”

Keith joined in with a half-turn to glance over his shoulder—between  _ their _ shoulders—and wave. The music grew muffled as they passed the open threshold, and Keith dropped his smile, bowing his head and massaging his palms against his ears.

“Ugh,” he grunted, dropping his hands, “I don’t think I’m going to hear anything for the next week.”

Lance barked a laugh, wrapping his arm around Keith’s hip and squeezing him in a side-hug. “Tell me about it; sometimes I wonder if it’s really the ADHD, or if my hearing problems come from going to too many weddings as a kid.”

“Fuck relationships; people need to stop falling in love for the sake of my ears.”

“Hang on— _ we’re _ still in a relationship.” He halted them in front of the keypad, hailing a lift to the twenty-ninth floor. “At least, until we get in the elevator.”

“What, we’re not a couple tomorrow morning?”

Lance groaned. “Alright, when we say our goodbyes, yeah duh. But the wedding, the whole—” he waves his free arm hand around in circles overhead “—that’s done with. We’re finally through this whole shitshow!”

The elevator bell rang through the cotton in Keith’s ears, the doors sliding open before the two of them. Lance’s eyes lit up in the warm light, and he pulled away from Keith, only to take one of his hands with both of his, leading him in through the doorway towards sweet, silent salvation.

“And now,” Lance orated, “I have a question to ask you.” The doors slid shut behind him, and he lowered himself to a knee, his million-watt smile practically splitting his face now. “Keith Kogane, will you make me the loneliest man in the world, and break up with me?”

Keith rolled his eyes, laughter bubbling up between the two of them. Maybe Lance was starting to rub off on him—and what a terrifying prospect that might be—but he was going to indulge him in it, tonight. “Well when you put it that way, how’s a guy supposed to say no?”

Lance scoffed, pushing up to his feet and throwing his arms around Keith in a hug—a real hug, not a robotic mandatory display of PDA for their ruse, but a genuine, happy embrace. “How’d we fucking pull that off, man? Like, without killing each other in the process.”

“Beats me.”

“And to have everyone believe it, like.” He pushed Keith to arms length, quirking an eyebrow at him. “The two of us,  _ in love _ —can you imagine?”

The answer, unfortunately, was ‘yes.’ And not only  _ could _ he imagine it, but he had—particularly, though not strictly, in these last three days. Luckily, the elevator interrupted any potential answer he might’ve been able to line up (or likely, wouldn’t have been able to.)

“C’mon,” Keith breathed, slipping out of Lance’s grasp and leading the way out, counting the three doors to their room.

They walked in silence, calm and peaceful, the throbbing in Keith’s ears echoing through the empty hall. He stood aside to allow Lance access to the key card mechanism. Lance stepped up to it, but turned to him instead.

“Part of me’s going to miss it, I’ve got to admit.” He clicked his tongue when an apologetic frown tugged at Keith’s lips. “Oh, don’t look at me like that; you know I get sappy.”

“How about…” and he’d started it; there was no going back, so he might as well finish it, “one last kiss, then?”

Lance gave him a wry smirk. “One more for the road? Hell, why not?”

Keith nodded. Put a bow on this, bookend this trainwreck of an enterprise with one last kiss, for no one else but the two of them. What could go wrong?

Lance stepped closer, Keith shuffling forward to meet him halfway. Lance’s fingers curled around Keith’s, his other hand reaching out and landing on Keith’s cheek. A soft smile flickered across his face, gone just as quickly as it appeared when his eyes fell to Keith’s mouth, then he leaned in.

It was all Keith could do to temper the stutter of his breath as Lance tilted his chin up, as their lips met, soft and slow, for the last time.

“Alright.” Lance says. And they pull away. He swipes the key card in the door and pulls it open, insisting Keith go in first. They get changed, they brush their teeth, and they go to bed.

That’s what should’ve happened. Instead, what happened was this:

Lance pulled back with a soft smack of their lips, just far enough that their noses brushed together when he changed angles and dove forward again. It caught Keith unawares at first, confusion seizing him for a moment before he remembered himself, and started to reciprocate. He brought his free hand up to Lance’s lapel, pulling him in by the coat but still testing, making it his move and waiting then for Lance’s response.

He didn’t know what this was, some weird game of chicken, or even… nope, Keith wasn’t going to get his hopes up. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to be the first one to pull away.

And it seemed Lance was intent on something similar. His hand migrated up to Keith’s hair, cradling the back of his head as he pushed their chests together, then kept pushing until Keith’s back collided with a thud on the door and a groan punched out of his lungs. Lance adjusted their hands, twining their fingers together now as he changed the tempo of their kiss to something more insistent—desperate, almost.

Keith matched the latter descriptor eagerly, hands tightening against Lance as he pushed back against his lips readily, hungrily, like every kiss they’d shared in the weekend leading up—every look between them, every argument over the past year-and-a-half, everything that had ever happened between them—had been nothing but a precursor to this.

Somehow, over all of it, he heard the elevator bell ring.

“Shit,” Lance hissed, breaking away to throw his gaze down the hall.

Keith blinked away the haze, registering the panic streaked across Lance’s expression as his thoughts cleared up, and he remembered: “Keycard,” he breathed. Then, he pulled his hands off Lance, just enough that he could tap on his chest to get his attention. “Keycard, Lance. Key—”

Lance’s expression dropped to nonplussed, and his hands flew to his back pockets. “Right, where’s— _ shit _ .” He pat them against his front pockets now, biting his lip in concentration. The elevator doors rumbled open just as he stuffed a hand in his coat pocket, eyes lighting up as he grabbed a hold of something within.

“Go.” Keith slid aside to allow Lance free passage to the lock. “Go, go, go.”

He heard footsteps, the clack of high heels against too-thin hallway carpeting, and he dared a look over his shoulder. He could’ve smacked himself in the forehead—of  _ course _ , it was goddamn Nyma and Rolo, dragging their tired feet to the room nextdoor theirs.

Then the door latch clicked, and Lance grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him in single-mindedly. And because Keith’s a bit of a bastard, he couldn’t help himself but meet their curious looks with a little wave and a shit-eating grin. “‘Sup.”

Lance didn’t even seem to notice, letting go of his grip long enough to push the door shut and twist the deadbolt. He spun on his heel to face Keith then, a silent question hanging in the air and creasing his brow as he waited for it to take form on his lips.

Keith didn’t give him the chance, throwing his jacket to the floor before sandwiching Lance’s face in his hands and kissing him again. It was gentler this time, slower as the doubt between them was chipped away with every second that passed, every pull back that anticipated the inevitable push back in. They had the room to be curious, now, to probe for reactions that they’d earlier had to bullshit for the show.

Because this was no longer for show. This wasn’t for Lance’s siblings, or his parents, or for either of their exes. This was their secret; this was for them alone.

Lance pressed his palms into Keith’s chest, sliding them up until his fingers hooked on his shoulders. With it, he ran his tongue along Keith’s lower lip, fingers twitching when Keith responded in kind, sliding his tongue in past Lance’s lips. A soft moan stuttered out of Lance, and he pushed Keith back a step. Keith was far from protesting, catching Lance’s intention and pulling him back another, then another. He stumbled over his shoes as he tried to scuff them off, dragging the heels against the carpet and the front of the other toe as Lance walked him back further still. He recognised immediately that the smart thing to do would be to bend over and untie them, but just as soon realised there was no way in hell he was going to relinquish Lance’s lips anytime soon. In any case, he managed to shake them off one at a time between their steps, despite Lance’s unrelenting pace towards the centrepiece of the room.

Lance had already joked on a couple occasions that it was a shame neither of them were actually going to fuck on the bed, considering the both of them would be going back to their shitty double mattresses after tonight. Lance had even lamented on one early night that he’d packed a veritable arsenal of condoms and lube in his expectations to get lucky (to which, Keith pointed out they were initially supposed to share a double room anyway, unsure if Lance actually heard his argument or not.)

Though Keith would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it too—having sex on a king-sized bed with plush hotel sheets he’d never have to wash, that is. Not hooking up with a stranger at his brother’s wedding.

Keith halted them, maybe a handful of feet short of Lance’s bedside. He broke the kiss and looked Lance in his half-lidded eyes. “I want you to fuck me,” he murmured. And really, he was okay with anything—nothing at all, if it came down to it. But if there was a possible question of what he  _ wanted _ , then he was going to be clear.

Lance’s eyes went wide. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you,” he breathed.

Keith shrugged. “Again, it’s late. And we have an early morning tomorrow.” He smirked, the words awfully familiar. “At least this time, you’re sober.”

The weight of last night’s conversation fell back over the two of them, Keith remembering it all too late to take it back. In the wake of Lance’s hangover, as well as the whirlwind of the wedding day, they hadn’t stopped to talk about what Lance had told him at the bar—hadn’t even the chance to mention it.

“ _ It felt real with you sometimes, too _ .”

Keith licked his lips, his eyes falling into the space between them. He suddenly felt very small. “Sorry, I—”

“Hey,” Lance called softly. “Don’t be sorry. I…”  _ Was drunk out of my mind _ , Keith’s mind supplied.  _ Didn’t mean what I was saying _ , it further suggested. “I want it too.”

It had Keith’s heart kicking in his chest anew, though he reasoned Lance probably wasn’t thinking about it in the same depth as Keith was—then again, what did it matter? If it’s what they both wanted in the moment, who gave a shit if they had similar motivations?

He set his jaw, but only briefly, as he followed up with leaning back in to capture Lance’s lips. Lance’s hands slid up the front of his shirt, feeling his way to the knot of Keith’s necktie and fumbling to loosen it. Keith brought his hands back to join the effort, and though it was tough to discern if the extra fingers helped or harmed their cause, they managed to untie and discard it. He was rewarded for his assistance when Lance tore open a button or two at the collar, burying his face in Keith’s neck.

“Ha- _ ahh _ …” His head lolled to the side, and Lance greedily took advantage of the new ground offered, pressing a trail of kisses up his neck and settling below his jaw, sucking what was no doubt going to be an unmistakable hickey come morning, if Keith’s observations of Lance’s past partners was anything to go by. But he had far more pertinent things to think about than tomorrow’s bruises, like the fact that Lance was still wearing far too many articles of clothing for what they both wanted to do.

His eyes fluttered open, and his hands found the back of Lance’s suit jacket. A few tugs on the back of the collar were enough to get Lance with the program, shimmying his shoulders until they got it off his back and onto the floor. Lance’s hands landed on Keith’s hips, holding fast and guiding him back onto the bed, his patience having worn obviously thin. Keith grabbed hold of Lance’s shoulders to soften the landing, Lance pulling off of his neck as his back hit the comforter. Lance sat back on his heels, legs straddling one of Keith’s thighs, and his hands returned to the front of Keith’s shirt, working to finish the unbuttoning he’d started.

“Can I confess something?” His eyes flicked up to catch Keith’s for a moment, before he fumbled on a button and brought his attention back down to his hands. “This has always been kind of a fantasy of mine—undressing a guy in a suit, I mean.”

“Yeah?” He pushed up on the leg Lance straddled.

Lance’s fingers twitched just below Keith’s navel, thighs tensing for the split-second that his eyes went unfocused. Keith’s gut clenched at the reaction, eyes widening as if to take in more of the sight in the warm, low light.

Then Lance pulled in a steadying breath that cleared his vision, and breathed out a chuckle. “Think it started when Rachel brought home her date for senior prom.”

He pushed back against Keith, in gentle, infrequent rolls that felt hardly-there, particularly in comparison to the weight of Lance’s palms on the front of his slacks, so temptingly close to where he wanted them to be, and so far all the same. He continued as he tore open the zipper, untucking and dealing with the last of Keith’s buttons.

“In hindsight, might’ve been my first pre-gay awakening—in like, I should’ve realised I liked guys when I was picturing myself making out with my sister’s linebacker boyfriend.” His hands then flew back to Keith’s trousers, hooking on his belt loops as he stood back up, pulling them down and off in two tugs, socks going next.

_ Damn, he really wasn’t kidding _ , Keith thought. “I guess  _ being _ undressed by a guy in a suit was never a part of the fantasy, though.” Lance lifted his head back up, sending him a puzzled look. “I’m all but naked, and you still have your shoes on.”

Lance glanced down to confirm, then gave him a sheepish smile. “Tell you what: I promise to take off my undies before you.”

Keith scrunched up his nose. “Ugh. Never call them ‘undies’ again, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“What do you prefer I call ‘em, then?” Lance sat down next to him and tugged off his shoes, liberating enough space for Keith to sit up, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the floor.

“I’d prefer they not stick around long enough to need a name.”

Lance barked a laugh, pushing up off the bed as soon as his shoes and socks hit the floor. Keith was about to ask where he was going, but figured it out the moment Lance knelt by his suitcase—what had he told Keith he’d packed again? Given that, he decided to follow his lead in preparation, standing up only long enough to spin on his heel and reach out for the bedding.

“The hell are you doing?”

Keith tugged out the first corner with a grunt. “You’re not fucking me on that scratchy-ass blanket.”

Lance laughed. “Fair enough.”

Keith followed along halfway down the mattress, breaking the seam so diligently drawn by the housekeeping staff, intent on following down to the foot of the bed before Lance’s hands landed on his stomach, his warmth pressing against Keith’s back and his chin hooking on his shoulder.

“Bet it’s going to feel good,” he murmured, the low rumble in his chest sending shivers down Keith’s spine. His hands migrated upwards, electric shocks dancing across Keith’s bare skin in their wake. “I think the thread count of these sheets is higher than my SAT score.”

The corners of Keith’s mouth curled upwards. “‘S not hard to outdo a score of twenty.”

Lance’s hands halted their upward trajectory, and he heaved a sigh against Keith’s ear. Keith clicked his tongue, turning around in Lance’s arms and smirking at his pout, smoothing his hands out at Lance’s collar.

“C’mon…”

“Why’re you always so mean to me?”

“‘Cause you make it easy—low-hanging fruit, and all.”

He scoffed. “Pretend I made a dirty joke about what you just said.”

“What, you’re not going to make one?”

He shook his head, his pout falling away easily as he crowded in. “My mouth’s got better things to do.”

He pressed back in for another passionate kiss, picking up where they’d last left off. Keith threw an arm over Lance’s shoulder as he kissed back, as he felt Lance’s hands grip his hips with intent. With his other hand, he tucked a finger under the knot of Lance’s bowtie, tugging forward as he took a step back.

“C’mon,” he repeated.

Lance obliged, eager to follow Keith’s lead. He pulled off a hand, bracing the other arm around Keith’s waist as he lowered them both down. It took a bit of shuffling—Lance’s knee nudging against Keith’s thigh and his hands insistent upon guiding him in lieu of his (as aforementioned, better occupied) mouth—but Lance ultimately got them pointing in the right direction, lying Keith back down against the pillow.

Keith felt around Lance’s tie, ultimately landing on the tail and pulling the knot loose not a moment later. He thanked any god listening that it came off with nary more than a single tug, given that it took fifteen minutes and five different Youtube videos for Keith to get it knotted in the first place, and tossed it to the floor to be forgotten in the face of Keith’s next obstacle.

Then Lance rolled their hips together and he hissed, abandoning the order of operations in his head for the sake of priorities. “Belt,” he groaned, breaking their kiss.

“Sh-shit, sorry.” He pulled a hand back to remedy the situation, Keith adding one to the mix, the other rubbing against the tender scrape it had left on his stomach.

When they successfully managed to unbuckle it, Lance unceremoniously ripped it out of the loops with one tug, then ground right back down without further ado. Keith threw his head back into the pillow, the softness of the sheets totally lost on him in comparison to the heat blossoming from the friction of their hips. It brought the mission back to the forefront of his mind, and with it his hands to Lance’s top shirt button. Keith almost expected to get reprimanded by Lance for ripping at the buttons nearly hard enough to pop them off, but Lance clearly had gotten back on track as well, his focus zoned solely on the grind he was continuing between them.

Keith had no qualms about that, content to do the work of undressing him if Lance just kept  _ that _ going. His knuckles brushed against the warmth of Lance’s skin as they worked their way down the buttons, his senses heightening along with his arousal and making him aware of every sound, every caress, and most of all the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. He could’ve sung his joy when he reached the last one, tugging the shirt from Lance’s tuck to reach for it.

Lance sat back on his heels, ripping the shirt off his shoulders with impatience that seemed to match Keith’s at the very least. Unfortunately for the both of them, the shirt seemed to get stuck by something on his wrists, pinching Lance’s face in confusion. Then his face relaxed, and despite the impatience stewing in Keith’s gut, Lance laughed.

“Cufflinks,” he explained, then fiddled with the left cuff. Keith sat up, working on the right one. “ _ Careful _ ,” he chastised when Keith gave a particularly vigorous tug, fingers snapping off the end of the link. “They were a gift.”

Lance freed the side he was working on, relinquishing his hand for Keith to liberate the other. Keith clicked his tongue, but otherwise held it—not particularly concerned about it when he popped it loose, grabbing the other offered by Lance and dropping them on the bedside table. By the time he’d straightened back, Lance had already thrown off the shirt, so Keith took the next logical step, and reached for Lance’s fly. 

It took some awkward manoeuvring, and what felt like an eon for Keith’s crotch, aching from neglect, but they were ultimately able to get Lance’s pants off, ending Lance propped up on his elbows, bracketing Keith’s face.

He smirked. “See? Now we’re both in our undies.”

“Told you not to use that word,” Keith muttered.

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Mm, guess the deal’s off then.” And he surged forward, capturing Keith’s lips before he could breathe any further protest. The kiss was intense, possessive, and before Keith knew it, Lance had stripped him of his boxers, pushed his knees up towards his shoulders, and was grinding in anew against Keith’s bare skin.

It was overwhelming, to say the least. Reminiscent of some of his earlier fantasies involving Lance—when it was all they could do to not jump down each other’s throats every five seconds (spurring endless thoughts of taking Lance down his throat in another manner.) His eyes slipped shut as fingers dug into the sheets at his sides, relishing in the command Lance took over his body, the sensation of being wanted so viscerally and absolutely.

Lance relinquished the kiss, his body heat drawing further, but his hands pushing into him as hard as ever. Then, he felt the soft press of a kiss against the inside of his knee, and he suppressed a shiver.  _ Oh god _ —then the kisses trailed lower, inch by inch, towards…

“Are you—” He breathed against Keith’s leg, then pulled away, the bed creaking beneath him. “D’you want to go to the bathroom first?”

Keith’s eyes fluttered open. Lance knelt between his legs, face framed between his thighs, lips red, cheeks ruddy—expectantly waiting for an answer, Keith reminded himself. “I’m all good.” Thankfully, the truth; there weren’t many mood killers bigger than having to take a shit in the middle of foreplay.

Lance cocked an eyebrow. “You’re  _ good _ good, or are you  _ good _ ?”

“I… What?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Like, am I gonna have to double up on the tip I leave for the cleaning staff, Keith, or no?”

“Oh—no, then I’m good good.”

“So you mean you’re  _ good _ ?”

“God it’s—” He pushed back his bangs, the sweat/hairgel slurry sticking uncomfortably between his fingers “—can you just fuck me, already?”

Lance huffed, then let one of Keith’s legs drop, reaching over towards the nightstand. “Al _ right _ ,” he answered, though from the uptick it sounded more sarcastic than anything. Nonetheless, Keith decided to let it drop—arguing further with Lance didn’t seem the quickest route to getting fucked, and at this point he was far too horny to endanger his chances for the sake of his pride.

He took a deep breath, letting his eyes slip back shut and willing the rest of his body to relax so much as he could manage as he waited, Lance’s second hand abandoning its hold as he heard the pop of the lube’s cap. He took another deep breath, his knees falling to the sides as he waited, waited…

The next breath whistled in through his nose, held his chest taught, as a cool finger pressed against his ass. He willed it to release, Lance clearly intent on taking his time, circling the lube around, warming himself with the light friction he generated. His other hand landed atop Keith’s knee, stroking his thumb gently against the inner crease, then pushed in.

Keith resisted the urge to tense, rolling his shoulders against the sheets as he felt Lance sink in to his knuckle. Then Lance pulled back, pushed back in, reaching just a little further this time.

“I can take another,” he informed, despite figuring it’d probably be better for him if Lance spent a little more time stretching with one in. It wasn’t going to  _ kill _ him, after all, and his craving for more would definitely be able to carry him through the discomfort.

Lance obliged him without question, pulling out just far enough to match his fingertips before going back in. A moan caught in Keith’s throat at the sensation, wincing as the stretch bordered on painful, toeing the line as he waited for Lance to rest. Luckily for him, Lance seemed to catch onto what was happening, trailing his hand soothingly down the inside of Keith’s thigh and back up, the featherlight strokes a welcome distraction as his body adjusted. Soon enough, Lance ventured to move them, to pump his fingers out and back in a few times, and it pulled a sigh from Keith.

“That okay?” He breathed, the husk in his voice throwing Keith for a bit of a loop—he hadn’t even  _ touched _ Lance yet.

He nodded, and feeling his hair muss against the pillow, he reached up to smooth it down again. Lance’s movements grew a little more decisive with each iteration, fingers curling to stroke against his walls until—

“ _ Ah _ —!” Keith’s eyes snapped open as his legs gave an involuntary twitch, vision coming back into focus on the warm light bouncing off the ceiling. Lance’s fingers scissored inside him, stretching then stroking, and it had Keith rolling his hips to get more.

“Ready for a third?” And holy  _ shit _ , Keith had never imagined Lance’s voice being able to take on the timbre it had—it was almost a purr, low and gravelly, and it seemed to resonate with every nerve in Keith’s body, making them sing.

He jerked his head in a fervent nod, not trusting his own voice to keep steady. He felt the third finger push in, revelling in the sensation, the knowledge that he was so fucking close to getting what he wanted. He pushed down on Lance’s fingers, chasing that sensation, and let another moan slip past his lips when the fingers of Lance’s other hand slid down to the base of his cock.

Lance leaned forward into Keith’s vision, and he forced himself to return Lance’s gaze: dark, half-lidded, and hazy. “ _ Fuck _ Keith, you like that?”

And because Keith’s brain was solidly in his dick by that point, the response he’s able to mount was nothing more than a grunted, “Yeah— _ ssshhhit _ ,” he added, when Lance’s grip tightened around him, wrist flicking an indulgent staccato.

Lance groaned, his gaze falling to the steady work of his hands. “ _ God _ , when you make those sounds, it makes me want to…”

Keith waited a few moments, a few thrusts of Lance’s hand, watched the crease form in Lance’s brow. “It makes you want to  _ what _ , Lance?” He prompted, anticipation swirling in his gut.

Lance swallowed thickly; Keith tracked the bob of his Adam’s apple, his tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight. Then Lance’s eyes snapped up to his, a point of clarity breaking through. “Are you ready?”

It practically took the breath out of him, punched it out of his lungs. Lucky enough, he seemed to have just enough to huff out a, “Yeah.”

Lance eased his fingers out, eyes slipping away toward the nightstand once more, his hands soon following. He tore apart two condom packs, tossing one to Keith (who luckily managed to catch it, but only barely.) It took him a few tries, his palms uncomfortably sweaty and his ego a bit too fragile to deign wiping them down on the covers, but he did manage to rip off the package and roll on the condom. He met Lance’s gaze, waiting patiently for him to finish, and they shared an unspoken agreement. This was happening. Lance leaned a hand down on the pillow next to Keith’s head, and pushed in.

Lance’s eyes went unfocused, then quickly slipped shut as he moaned low in his throat. Something unknotted itself deep in Keith’s gut as he got more, more, overwhelmed and yet almost relieved at the sensation of being filled, at the all-encompassing pressure setting his nerves aflame. Lance bottomed out, and his hand came round to hook onto Keith’s hip, head drooping as he let out a heavy, held breath. And  _ god _ , was it a sight to see: Lance, curled over him, between his legs, chest heaving as he rolled his hips in shallow thrusts.

Keith bit his lip, pushing up to meet him, encouraging Lance onward, letting him know he could take it—that he  _ wanted _ it. Lance’s hand shifted on his hip, and he took on a more severe angle, his rhythm stuttering only for it to stop a moment later.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “hang on, hang on.”

Keith obliged, brow furrowed in question. “Is everything okay?”

Lance answered with a jerky nod, lifting his head to return to Keith an almost pained smile. “Yeah I just—” He gave a sheepish laugh “—just let myself get a little too excited.”

Keith cocked an eyebrow, feeling a smirk tug at his lips. “Seriously,  _ already _ ?”

Lance huffed, his gaze faltering to the side. “Shut up.”

“I mean it’s fine with me.” He never imagined Lance to be a sprinter, with how frequently he bragged about his prowess, but he wasn’t going to fault him for one instance. “Serious, I’m not ribbing you; if it happens, it happens.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to push rope to make you cum. My mama taught me better than that.”

He barked a laugh—he couldn’t help himself. “Your mom taught you how to top?”

“What, I—no, I mean—” He faltered. “Like,  _ manners _ . Don’t laugh at me, and don’t bring my mom into this!”

“ _ You _ brought it up,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but don’t capitalise off my bad judgement.”

It seemed to be the distraction he needed, however, as he started back up again, a sigh shuddering out as he set a slow pace. Unsatisfied by the distance Lance put between them, Keith brought his idle hands up against Lance’s sides, stroking gently with his thumbs, revelling in the jolts his abs would give every few seconds, more frequently still once he settled into a steadier pace.

Lance shifted, hitting a better angle, and Keith hummed his delight, head rolling to the side. “ _ Yes _ , Lance.”

Lance let go of his hip, bringing the hand up to brush back an errant lock of hair on Keith’s forehead. His gaze went unfocused again, mouth opening and jaw working as if to say something, as if to find where to start.

“What is it?” Keith prompted.

He hesitated only a moment longer, before breathing out, “You’re beautiful.”

Keith turned back ahead, blinking away a modicum of shock. His lungs filled with the intent of a response, but he couldn’t find the words to say. Something akin to an apology washed over Lance’s expression, and he furrowed his brow.

“I—”

“Kiss me,” Keith interrupted, and when confusion marked Lance’s reaction, realised in his hesitation, Keith insisted with a tug on his waist.

Lance practically collapsed into him, falling to his elbows and capturing his lips once more. Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s back, anchoring himself as his head spun, Lance’s chest heaving against his as their tongues slid together, a hand coming in to muss Keith’s hair. And it was so much, the latent taste of Lance’s gum on his tongue, the creak of the bed beneath him, the burn of their hips rutting together and of Lance inside him—he needed more. He shifted his hips, searching for the angle they’d lost in their manoeuvring. Lance caught on immediately, experimenting with his own thrusts, slow and languid, practically too much so for Keith to bear.

Then they found it, Keith equal parts relieved and thrilled—because  _ fuck _ , was that good. “Harder, Lance,” he rasped. “Fuck me harder.”

And Lance finally got it started, hip bones connecting roughly with Keith’s thighs, and it felt like everything he could’ve ever needed, his moan swallowed up against Lance’s teeth. And Lance didn’t pull back, the sensation mounting in waves that grew off one another, Keith’s fingernails scraping against his back as he ached for release, barrelling ever closer by the moment.

For all the world, it felt like it could’ve been his first time all over again—and in a way, it sort of was. His first time with someone he really felt this way about, someone who wasn’t around just to commiserate and get off. He wondered if this was the way Lance felt when he was with Nyma. He hoped, for but a moment and despite his better judgment, that it was the way Lance was feeling now.

Their kiss fell apart as their breaths became increasingly ragged, Lance electing to press their foreheads together as their moans mingled, as things shifted into sixth gear.

“Please tell me you’re getting close,” Lance whined. Keith nodded, their noses bumping awkwardly together with the act, though he was too far gone by that point to even care. Because Lance kept hitting it just right, and hitting it hard, and Keith knew he’s not going to last a whole lot longer.

“Touch me,” he wasn’t sure if it came out as a command or as a plea, but in any case it had Lance obliging, his hips faltering so his hand can get a grasp on things, but the trade-off was more than enough for Keith, Lance not bothering with a build up and instead delivering on exactly what Keith needed—tight, sharp, and fast. The ache crested, his shoulders snapping tense as the pleasure swelled, signalling the inevitable.

“Fuck Keith, I’m going to—”

He didn’t hear the end of the sentence, his back arching and his own shout filling his ears as the climax hit him. Lance’s pace was erratic, Keith’s even moreso, but it was enough to carry him through, rolling up into Lance’s cock and his hand and savouring the pleasure as it came in waves, over, and over, and over, and…

His hands slipped off Lance, hitting the bed at his sides as his back did the same. Lance slumped over him, stilled and spent, their chests pressed together and Lance’s heart beating an erratic tattoo against his ribcage. They gasped for their breaths as they hung in the afterglow, the sweat cooling on Keith’s skin, still burning hot where their bodies touched. Then, Lance pushed up with a groan, and pulled out. He stood off the bed, and Keith stretched his legs into the space Lance vacated, his hips complaining all the while. Then, Lance cleared his throat.

“D’you want to…” Keith glanced back, and Lance spared a vague motion to his body with the hand that held his tied-off condom, gaze pasted somewhere on the headboard.

Keith blinked away another layer of haze, clueing in and sitting up. “Yeah.” He eased his own off, acutely aware of Lance’s presence in his peripheral vision as he knotted it and handed it to him. Lance accepted it without another word, slipping away to the bathroom. Keith watched him go, something clenching around his heart even as its pace evened out.

He then recognised the anxiety settling in around him, his post-orgasmic high giving way to reality with an unfortunate abruptness. Because he actually did that. He’d kissed Lance. They’d had sex. And tomorrow, they were supposed to ‘break up,’ their arrangement having run its course and completed its purpose. He heard the faucet turn on in the room over. Lance was still there. He was coming back any second, and he…

He’d called Keith beautiful.

The water shut off, bringing Keith back into the moment. He shifted over to his side, knowing Lance would make a stink of things if Keith stole his spot, regardless of the prelude. And really, Keith was way too tired to fight—and too tired to drag on his pyjamas (too sweaty as well, if he was being totally honest.) He settled himself on his back under the sheets, eyelids weighing down despite the dread starting to crawl up his throat.

Lance came back, approaching in the corner of his eye. Keith chewed on his tongue as he shut the lamp off, as he crawled in beside Keith, as he pulled the blanket over himself and settled with a sigh, throwing an arm behind his head.

“Night,” Lance murmured.

Keith opened his mouth to parrot it back, but his breath caught halfway out. He took another one in, and tried again. “What… what does this mean for us?”

It felt like the air got sucked out of the room, but Keith knew that couldn’t be right because he could see the steady rise-and-fall of Lance’s chest, even better when he turned his head to look at Lance. He watched the flutter of Lance’s eyelashes in the city lights spilling out from the window behind him. Then Lance turned to face him, eyes downcast somewhere in the sheets spanning between them.

“It’s late, Keith. I don’t think it’s the right time to talk about this.”

Keith’s hands clenched in the sheets, his gaze falling to them. He should’ve known—what else had he expected? Lance had already said it: it’s not enough to pretend.

“Hey,” he called out softly, and Keith had the presence of mind to relax them under Lance’s gaze, “you can ask me in the morning.”

Keith nodded, accepting the cushion to the blow. “Okay.”

Lance hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “Please, ask me in the morning?” The weight of it pressed down on Keith’s chest, but it didn’t last for long, as Lance turned over on his other side. “G’nite.”

Keith nodded again, knowing Lance couldn’t see him, anyway. Then he turned on his own side, blinking away the lights of the bustling city as they gradually faded to nothing.

* * *

Keith groaned, shifting to resolve a cramp in his neck. The light in front of his eyelids faded in as he roused, against his will. He drew in a sharp breath, rolling onto his side before sighing it out, sinking back into the warm bed and waiting the few moments necessary for sleep to overtake him once more.

He heard a soft chuckle in front of him. “You finally awake?”

He cracked his eyes open, Lance’s soft smile greeting him a foot away, half-obscured by his pillow. Mentally, he kissed goodbye any hopes of sleeping in longer—if Lance was awake, chances were that they’d already slept in too late. Keith cleared his dry throat and grunted out a, “Mm,” bringing up a hand to smooth back his hair.

Lance waited for Keith to drop his hand down on his side, gaze flicking away before he met Keith’s again. “So…” His smile slipped away, before it came back under the will of a forced chuckle. “Did you want to ask me something?”

Keith’s heart kicked in his chest. “I… yeah. Um.”

He built up the courage to say it, opened his mouth, and lost it. But Lance didn’t interrupt him, didn’t pull away. He waited right there, close enough for Keith to reach out and trace his jaw if he wanted, to pull him in and…

“I like you, Lance,” he softly confessed.

Lance’s smile broke out slowly into a grin, shifting closer. “That’s not a question,” he teased.

_ Oh, well—ugh _ , Keith rolled his eyes. “Fuck, I mean—” He clicked his tongue.

Lance laughed, his hand going to Keith’s hip below the sheets, thumb stroking gently. “It’s okay, take your time—”

He was interrupted by three solid thunks on the door, fingers jolting against Keith’s skin.

“Hey!” A voice boomed in from the hall, practically shaking the bed frame. Lance groaned, pushing up on an elbow. “It’s nine, time to—”

“Give us a minute!” Lance bellowed over his shoulder, then looked back to Keith, flashed him a sheepish smile, and dropped himself back down. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Keith smirked, an idea slowly forming in his sleep-heavy brain. He threw a leg over Lance’s and rolled over, moving to straddle him and relishing in the way Lance’s eyes widened as he fell back in the sheets. He planted his hands on Lance’s chest, then leaned in close.

“Hey, loneliest guy in the world: why don’t you un-break up with me?”

And Lance’s smile returned. “Hell yeah.” He threw his arms around Keith’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss that they both savoured, ignoring the pounding against the door for a handful of greedy seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> Lance: Keith u can’t lie down in a bed with socks on that’s a crime
> 
> Also the truth comes out: I’m partial to bottom Keith. I hc them both as verse bottoms but like this is my smut fic I get to indulge in what I like and what I personally prefer is bottom Keith babey. Gosh tho but I remember fandoms of old where there’d be like actual entire arguments about shit like who bottomed and topped and like picking one or the other was like a fucking political Stance. Hard pass. Likely because it was caught up in a lot of trappings of “well who’s the GIRL in the relationship and who’s the BOY” like motherfucker the entire point of it is tha—
> 
> Not that I doubt that those conversations don’t happen in *this* fandom, but like… I don’t gotta see it I don’t gotta hear it I DON’T CARE (by Fall Out Boy)
> 
> By the way, y’all probably got it partially (maybe? hopefully???) but before Lance left Luis was telling him “u know we all know u guys aren’t really dating right? Ronnie overheard u two arguing about it and told literally everyone else in the (immediate) family. Also Keith’s definitely in love with you and u def feel the same way so stop being stubid and start real dating” and Lance was like “NAHHH, nah--you think..? NAHHHHHHHHHHH” literally from that moment until they woke up the next day. The two of them are certified peak dumbasses who both would definitely think “yeah like we made out and did the Teehee Tickle Time but like… as bros right??? He can’t actually like me like me, right???” don’t TAKE this characterisation away from me they’re my emotional support dumbasses
> 
> Next morning Luis keeps trying to sneak Lance looks like “SO DIDJA DO IT HUH??? DIDJA TALK TO HIM?????? HUH???????” eventually just texts Lance, and when he gets the affirmative literally stands up interrupts whoever was talking and goes “HEY GUESS WHO’S ACTUALLY DATING NOW GUYS!!!” Sibling privacy decree means nothing when you’ve spent the whole long weekend of ur brother’s wedding pretending to date (and publicly smorching) ur crush. Trust me I have two older siblings I know the rules, except usually I’m the one keeping the secrets, apart from my siblings keeping my whole queer thing under their hats. The only cis straight allies I need.
> 
> (also in case people were wondering because I DID think this thru, Nyma was invited to the wedding as Rolo’s plus-one, who has a tentative relation to the bride’s side of things. Iiiiiiiit’s a small world aaafter all)
> 
> I think I learned a lot with this fic with the… challenges it posed me (specifically regarding pacing, I’m definitely learning from this exercise.) But hey, everything you write is just more practice!!! Another lesson learned!!! More growth as a writer!!!! Still, I hope u guys enjoyed, and thanks so much for being part of this learning journey with me I hope it was as sexy for u as it was informative for me
> 
> If you’re following my multichap [Left (as in Gone)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796561/), then you know that my next priority is getting the last chapter + epilogue out for that. Ideally, that’ll be out in a few weeks, and I thank you again for your patience! It’s possible that another smut oneshot will come out before that, but we’ll see (and you’ll see too if u sub to my pseud, gotta shamelessly self-plug guys u know how it is,)
> 
> In any case, thanks so much for reading!
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188183781516/one-more-kiss-for-the-road/)


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